


In 100 Words, I Have Loved You.

by HeartsandThumbs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2019-11-04 09:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17896319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartsandThumbs/pseuds/HeartsandThumbs
Summary: "Dean and I do share a more profound bond"The challenge: One prompt, every week, 52 weeks, 100 words- all to define the greatest love story ever told, of a fallen angel and a broken man, whose love can change the course of the world.





	1. Storm

**Author's Note:**

> These will be drabbles, once a week at 100 words per drabble based on the #ProfoundBond Discord Server's challenge-word. Trigger warnings will be labeled in the notes at the beginning as they apply, rather than on the series as a whole.
> 
> If you enjoy my prose, please check out my other work.  
> Also, comments shine like the sun- so feel free to leave a little light on my day.  
> I hope you enjoy.  
> Without further ado-

* * *

 

**-Part I: Storm-**

 

* * *

 

They say when you look into the eye of the storm, you feel calm.

The world swirls around you- destructive and violent. But just for a moment, every turmoil in your being ceases. And there’s light, and there’s quiet. There’s a mutual understanding, and a peace between you and the universe.

The wind whips around the barn, the roof clanging and cluttering. The lights flicker. It’s always darkest before dawn.

The storm enters with messy hair and a trench coat. All is still.

And no one ever told Dean before that the eye of the storm is so damn blue.


	2. Bunny

* * *

 

**-Part II: Bunny-**

 

* * *

 

Sam snickered at Dean, who was staring in abject horror at the litter of bunnies casually leaping and bounding across the floor, making new burrows in their shoes, and the pockets of Cas’ trenchcoat (which was, admittedly, kind of, maybe slightly cute, in an annoying way). One had even made itself comfortable atop Cas’ head.

The word ‘no’ pulled at Dean’s lips, but Cas looked so...so freakin’... happy. So instead, he rolled his eyes, turning to walk out of the room.

“Hey Dean,” Sam called, “I didn’t know that you and Cas also shared profound...bunnies.”

“Can it, Sam.”


	3. Fire

* * *

  

**-Part III: Fire-**

 

* * *

 

Flames rolled in like waves, consuming the cool tones of the angel’s skin, licking at and singeing his beautiful, dark wings.

He could hear the bells ringing out in heaven, clear as dawn, ‘the righteous man has been saved!’

“It’s just a little further, Dean,” Castiel assured the sleeping hunter, his grip tight as he raised the most beautiful soul he’d ever seen out of perdition.

It had taken time. Time that had built trust, and dare the angel say even love? Dean would never remember. Still, Castiel’s handprint seared into Dean’s flesh, willing him, ‘come back to me soon’.


	4. Coffee

* * *

 

**-Part IV: Coffee-**

 

* * *

 

Dean’s noticed his bones getting a little creakier. Fortunately for him, the only monster in his life is the coffee pot- hissing and spitting at him in protest of overuse.

He doesn’t mind. He loves mornings like these: watching his husband groggily stumble through the doorway.

They fought for moments like this, and something about this life is simply breathtaking. Exactly as it is. It can be the kids’ turn now. He’s good with that.

“Morning sunshine,” Dean soothes, running his fingers through the salt and pepper of Cas’ humanity, a reminder of all they’ve endured to get here.  “Coffee?”


	5. Dolphin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is rated 'M' for sexual themes.  
> This one is also blamed entirely on [MashiarasDream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashiarasDream)  
> (With love, of course.)

* * *

  

**-Part V: Dolphin-**

 

* * *

 

“Did you have to get the one shaped like a freakin’ dolphin, Cas?”

“Dolphins are capable of enjoying sex, too, Dean. It came highly recommended by the woman at the counter. She said she uses it with her wife.”

“-Cas!” Dean protests, cheeks blazing.

Cas twists the dial, and the vibrator starts buzzing.

“Shall we begin, then?” There’s something about that look, and the power and intent behind it that says Cas knows exactly what he’s doing

Dean fucking _whimpers_ , forgetting his protests and nodding, eyes blown wide.

“Very good, Dean. Lie back, and put your hands against the rails.”


	6. Letters

* * *

 

**-Part VI: Letters-**

 

* * *

 

Praying would mean Cas gets to hear him. Dean doesn’t want that. 

He writes him instead, filling notebooks with big, blocked letters. They start out with worries about Sam, and progress into his past, into his darkness. The in-between times, spaced a little further, he professes his love.

Cas isn’t around much. But when he is, Dean feels him, Dean’s grounded, his heart beats harder, and he feels like he’s gasping in fresh air after being underwater for a long time.

He tells Cas these things. And then he burns them, another body, never to come back to haunt him.


	7. Roses

* * *

 

**-Part VII: Roses-**

 

* * *

 

Dean’s full of guilt every time he looks at the pure white roses on his nightstand. A Valentine’s Day gift from Cas, in front of Sam and Jack, at that.

He’d yelled at Cas before throwing them away. And after things had quieted, he’d dutifully retrieved and preened them. Now they’re here, and Cas is gone.

Dean wishes he’d blushed and said thank you. Could’ve come closer instead of tearing himself away.

He’s in love with his best friend. And his best friend is in love with him.

And he’s throwing it away, just like the roses.

And thinking about both, in the dark, alone.


	8. Folklore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam's POV. See end notes.

* * *

 

**-Part VIII: Folklore-**

 

* * *

 

 

“So, get this,” Sam appears in the doorway brandishing a book.

“I’m eating, Sam. Lore waits until after bacon.”

Sam stalks off and spends the rest of the day with the ancient tome he’d been reading to try and learn about Michael. Instead, he finds: Cassiel. The _archangel_ Cassiel.

He traces his finger over the lines: _And when a person feels there is nothing at all left to live for, Cassiel lifts them and bears them forward until they can carry themselves again._

And his heart is full. Because Cas found Dean.

And Dean has an angel watching over him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by information found [here.](https://mythology.net/angels/cassiel/)  
> 


	9. Danger

* * *

 

**-Part IX: Danger-**

 

* * *

 

It takes being buried alive at the bottom of the ocean for Dean to realize:

They love me.

 _He_ loves me.

Dean claws with all his might, his fingers bleed, the tomb doesn’t yield.

It’s getting darker.

_I need to tell him…_

And darker. The weight in his arms starts to give.

_Need to tell him._

He gasps at the thinning air.

He’s wasted time pretending Michael’s the danger.

It’s not Michael. It’s his heart that would see the world burn.

Just to tell him.

It’s better this way. He and his feelings, buried at the bottom of the ocean.


	10. Towel

* * *

 

**-Part X: Towel-**

 

* * *

 

 

It’s gentle and sweet the way Cas takes precision in rinsing Dean’s hair.

They’re exhausted. They’re ready to fall into bed.

It’s been a long day, and yet, at the end- Cas takes the time to wash Dean’s hair, and then hold him in his arms beneath the warm rain of the shower.

It’s incredibly endearing. Dean can’t help to rest his hand against Cas’ chest, against his heart.

He’s already falling asleep when Cas fluffs a towel over his head.

Dean doesn’t fight Cas’ affection, there are enough battles. He knows their love will never be one of them.


	11. Stripper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Adult Themes

* * *

 

**-Part XI: Stripper-**

 

* * *

 

Dean’s glad he bought the door restraints. 

Cas looks so damn beautiful with his hands caught in them. Dean’s wrapped them with pretty black ribbon too- for the illusion. 

Cas’ shirt’s open, half-untucked from his pants, tie falling against his chest, eyes on Dean- who’s dancing to Def Leppard in the tight jeans that Cas likes. Dean’s shirt and belt are in a pile, discarded. He’s loving the attention Cas is granting him. He reaches down, unbuttoning his own pants.

He makes one hell of a sexy stripper, if he does say so himself.

All for him. Always for him.

 

 


	12. Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my loved one, [ Waywarded ❤](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywarded)  
> 

* * *

 

**-Part XII: Luck-**

 

* * *

 

 

Dean’s contented resting against Cas’ back, body tangling with his loved one’s in the sweetest, simplest way.

He’s tracing shapes and beautiful words on Castiel’s shoulder blades, things like ‘I love you’ and ‘stay with me’. Once in awhile, he’ll say them aloud.

Then, Cas will turn, less groggy with sleep than Dean, and he’ll kiss him, and call him a treasure.

Like with everything Cas has seen, Dean still matters.

Dean can’t help but believe him.

A smile curves his lips. With just a little luck, they can stay like this forever. However long ‘forever’ is allowed to be.


	13. Inferno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content

 

* * *

  

  **-Part XIII: Inferno-**

 

* * *

 

Candles scatter nightstands in various degrees of melt. Dozens of tiny flames burning into an inferno, consuming Dean in heat as the flames and their shadows dance over Castiel’s sweat-glistened skin as he rocks his hips against Dean, digging short fingernails into Dean’s chest and leaving temporary white streaks against his burning flesh.

The sounds he’s making are...sinful.  Dean’s close. He reaches out to stroke Cas, but Cas swats his hands away, “Not yet, Dean.”

Dean whimpers as his hands relocate to Cas’ hips, and Dean squeezes. It’s too much pleasure, but he’ll do everything he can to obey.


	14. Prank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this, I entirely blame [Dream.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashiarasDream) (I love you. Thank you for being such an inspiration.)
> 
> Also, this should be read as a high school AU. The original was 217 words and included some 'oooh'ing from the cafeteria.

* * *

 

**-Part XIV: Prank-**

 

* * *

 

 

 

“How much of a dick _are_ you!?”

Castiel’s _usually_ quiet, drawing or otherwise occupied pretending the outside world doesn’t exist. “Just admit that you like me. I’ll tell you no, and we’ll be done.” he fumes, shaking his sketchbook, pages splaying, covered in ink.

Dean’s not even sorry. He’s _smirking_.

“For what it’s worth, Cas, it’s invisible ink. And, I’m glad to see my ass is a good muse for your...creative talents.”

Surely enough, the ink’s fading. Cas slams the sketchbook shut just in time to see Dean strut that very ass away.

“By the way,” Dean calls back, winking, “I do like you.”


	15. Prophecy

* * *

  

**-Part XV: Prophecy-**

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel doesn’t mind his inability to sleep if it means moments like these.

Dean’s half on his stomach, half on top of his angel, sleeping, snoring just a little, and drooling against Castiel’s trenchcoat.

He runs his fingers through Dean’s hair. His human has exhausted himself again. The concept of being in bed without sleeping seemed strange at first, and honestly, the angel’s still not certain he understands it. But he likes it.

All of this happiness and good from something that was never supposed to be his. Heaven’s prophecies be damned. The righteous man is right where he belongs.


	16. Baby

* * *

  

**-Part XVI: Baby-**

 

* * *

 

 

Baby rolled a touch over eighty down the empty desert highway. It seemed like something straight out of _Hotel California_. But the only music here was the hollow, low refrain of Sam snoring as Baby rumbled toward the next hunt.

Thousands of miles she’d taken them, along the lonely roads of the American dream.

A shame that she couldn’t go the one place he wanted to be. Stairways to heaven only existed in the guitar whines of classic rock, and there was no more an angel in the radio than there was in his bed tonight.

A dark desert highway, indeed.


	17. Egg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content.

* * *

 

-Part XVII: Egg-

 

* * *

 

 

_He’s beautiful when he’s helpless._

Castiel drinks in the sight of the most beautiful human ever to grace the earth: hands tied behind his back, on his knees, torso flat against the bed, forbidden to collapse further or receive any relief where he needs it most.

“Cas, please,” Dean squirms, trying to rock his hips against something... _anything_.

Dean Winchester is _begging_ him to come.

And Cas still isn’t letting him.

He rests a hand on Dean’s hips, squeezing, “Stay still, Dean. You’ve been doing so well.”

Dean whines. Cas increases the speed of the vibrating egg in his ass as punishment.

“Oh god, gonna come, gonna come..”

There's a resounding slap, and a beautiful red handprint forming on Dean’s ass.

“Not. Yet.”


	18. Runaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas POV about Dean in some kind of AU

* * *

 

****

**-Part XVIII: Runaway-**

 

* * *

 

 

He’s a runaway, the fly-by-night, blink-and-you-miss-him type. He’s never one place too long, and you can’t quite remember whether he smelled of smoke or cedar. You  _ can  _ remember the freckles on his nose, the taste of whiskey on his lips.

He drowns in it. You drown in him. 

It’s not that he doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘love’- just, it scares him, like the word ‘home’ does- and you can understand why. Those things are elusive. Hard to keep. Too easy to lose.

You want the runaway boy to find home.

You hope he finds it in you.


	19. Spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter TW: Major Character Death

* * *

 

**-Part XIX: Spirit-**

 

* * *

The day you bury him, a rainbow spans the sky. You think of the colours he brought to your world, none of them quite so beautiful as the shade of green in his eyes. There will never be a colour that perfect again.

A month later, as you leave his place of rest, a thousand fireflies blink light on your otherwise dark world. You think about the time you tried counting his freckles, and he smiled and called you an idiot.

All that’s left of him is the spirit of who he was residing in your chest.

It’s not enough.

 

 


	20. Ocean

* * *

  

**-Part XX: Ocean-**

 

* * *

 

 

The ocean toys with the senses: you smell and hear it before you see it. Once in view, there’s nothing on Earth quite as breathtaking...save for watching your loved one’s pupils dilate, tears brimming, just at the edge of falling. The man has saved the world, but he’s never seen the sea.

Castiel watched his father build the world from a burning spherical mass of hell, into the beautiful blues and forest-blanket greens that seem like they were custom made  for he and Dean.

And yet... he finds Dean’s firsts more beautiful than the creation of the entire world.


	21. Glass

* * *

  

**-Part XXI: Glass-**

 

* * *

 

 

 

Fragile. Like glass.

That’s how Dean touches Castiel’s wings for the first time. As though they may shatter beneath the calm, warm gentleness of his fingertips. He holds his breath, and Castiel counts the seconds.

The feathers twitch. Castiel has never felt _love_ in a physical form here.

Here is pain and hurt. In the places that Castiel is letting Dean loves him lies a wound, old and deep: the ways in which he doesn’t belong, the ways in which he’s failed. He doesn’t know if Dean can kiss that better. But he trusts him enough to let him try.

 


	22. Hunger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter has sexual themes~ :3

* * *

 

**-Part XXII: Hunger-**

 

* * *

 

 

Dean burns with an impatient hunger watching Castiel’s muscles strain against the leather cuffs binding him to their bed. The effect ripples, tension in his wrists and biceps, then stomach.

Dean straddles the angel with a smirk. He doesn’t have to hold his wrists in place, but does anyway, appreciating his handiwork before moving to Cas’ arms and neck, teasing the opened fabric of his button-up before tracing over his bare chest, meeting touches with kisses.

Cas whimpers beneath him, struggling again.

But he agreed to this. Dean’s damn sure not ready to let him go before he’s loved him mercilessly.


	23. Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter only include copious fluffy things because I'm not about to make this theme angsty. Happy pride, loves! <3

* * *

 

**-Part XXIII: Pride-**

 

* * *

 

Dean’s breathless as he falls back into bed, dragging one angel with him, sending a cascade of rainbow glitter into the air with the impact of their bodies onto the mattress.

He never imagined a grin would be plastered on his face after his first pride parade, or that he’d be half painted in hues of magenta, and purple and blue.

“I’m proud of you,” Cas affirms with a kiss to Dean’s forehead that coats his lips in a light dusting of glitter cannon glitter.

“Seems to be the theme.”

Cas tilts his head.

“Pride. I’m...proud of me too.”

 


	24. Photograph

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Implied Major Character Death

* * *

 

**-Part XXIV: Photograph-**

 

* * *

 

 

 

Everything Dean loves most is a memory.

His photo-box only contains five photos. Because, he doesn’t think about it, y’know, in the moments, when they happen. Doesn’t think to take pictures.

After all this time, he doesn’t consider that those moments might not happen again.

There are precious few family photos. Four, to be exact.

...And then, there’s Cas.

Dean runs his fingers over the photographed mess of Castiel’s hair. He thinks the color is wrong. He doesn’t remember.

The cassette-tape memory of the greatest love of his life skips now, it warbles, and sometimes won’t play. But the tears still come. They always come.


	25. Competition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for angst.

* * *

 

**-Part XXV: Competition-**

 

* * *

 

 

The angel keeps walking. 

“I have to do this, Dean. If I don’t, millions of people die. So, I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings, but-”

“ _ I _ die. I die without you.”

Cas stops. Dean can almost feel the tension radiating from him, the resentment at Dean’s audacity.

“No,” Castiel says firmly, turning around with an almost angry determination, “You live. You and everyone else.That is on  _ me _ .”

“I’ll go, then.”

“This isn’t a competition to see who can self-destruct first, Dean.”

“Together or not at all. Don’t care about the rest of the goddamned world, Cas. Just you.”

 


	26. Roadtrip

* * *

  

**-Part XXVI: Roadtrip-**

 

* * *

 

It didn’t used to bother Dean this much, being on the road, just he and Sammy and the car roaring at ninety-miles-per-hour down the freeway. He used to find solace when the Allman Brothers sang that he was born to be a ramblin’ man. It had been true, then.

The car had been home, because the mere concept had eluded him.

Until Lebanon. Until the bunker. And moreover, until Cas- whose heart had welcomed Dean home with both security, and safety bundled up in a trenchcoat.

Yeah, roadtrips with Sammy were nice...but he always looked forward to going home.


	27. Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my love, Heli, beautiful and just out of reach.

* * *

 

**-Part XXVII: Moon-**

 

* * *

 

 

Dean had to get out for a little while. 

Forty minutes away from groggy 2AM stoplights, Baby rolled over the gravel of Lovewell Reservoir. Dean’s breath caught and chilled glancing at the water-frozen over like shattered glass, broken reflections of the night sky just evading his grasp.

The moon beamed full, cold and bright in the center, a dangerously beautiful glass orb on a crystalline surface.

It reminded him of his loved one, and how much he wished he’d come home. Castiel- always beautiful, ever changing, never once the same. Just like the moon, and just as out of reach.


	28. Craving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual Theme Warning.

* * *

 

**-Part XXVIII: Craving-**

 

* * *

 

Simple cravings include steaming apple pie, a greasy burger, or a good night’s sleep when your body’s dragging from exertion. Maybe even a hot shower after being drenched in the rain, blood and sweat.

But there, too, are the less simple cravings: his fingers fumbling to weave with yours, his breaths hitching, the smallest of sounds escaping his trembling lips, your fingertips against the raised bumps of his skin, the way he breathes your name --- “ _Dean---_ ” like you’re _everything_ , the way his lips search desperately for yours in the dark.

...The kind of craving that would drive a man mad.

 


	29. Graffiti

* * *

 

-Part XXIX: Graffiti-

 

* * *

 

_Scratch, scratch._

Woodchips flew.

Maybe it was distasteful. Vandalism, graffiti or whatever. Maybe the future men of letters, or the future generations of hunters that found this place would be concerned at the appearance of the fixtures, but Dean wasn’t.

Far as he was concerned, this was their legacy- letters chipped into a fancy wooden table where a family once sat. Whether they’d sat at it at some point or not didn’t matter, they still had their place:

‘SW’, ‘DW’ the table read. ‘MW, JW, BS, EH, JH, KT, CB’.

His hand ached.

Beside his own name, he etched hard and deep, making sure that the initials would be as long lasting as the effect of the bearer on his heart.

‘CW’.

 

 


	30. Undercover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask, I don't even know.   
> Dean Winchester is Dean Winchester.

* * *

 

 

**-Part XXX: Undercover-**

 

* * *

 

 

“Goin’ undercover, Sammy.”

“You look like Cas, if Cas decided to become a stripper.”

Dean was wearing a black trenchcoat, a rather noticeable pair of sunglasses, and a fedora.

“You look like one of those pay-by-the-hours for bachelorette parties. You’re not wearing a thong under there, are you?”

“Man never kisses and tells.” Dean winked, causing Sam to wrinkle his nose in disgust.

“Sam,” Cas said, emerging from the garage, troubled, holding a white rose. “This was left in my car. Was this a flirtation? How did they get there?”

Sam quirked a brow at Dean, who simply mouthed, “undercover”.


	31. Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings include PTSD related Panic Attacks.

* * *

 

  **-Part XXXI: Panic-**

 

* * *

 

 

There’s a wordless pain that Dean’s trying desperately to reach. He’s dying, surely. Blind, he can’t move to reach the scream. He can’t protect the person that needs protecting. He’s weak, he’s failing.

_He’s trying so hard…_

“Dean?!” Castiel bursts through the door. Dean can’t see him. He can just feel his body, too close for comfort, and his limbs curl around himself in response.

“Dean, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here. It’s another nightmare. You’re safe.”

_Does such a thing exist?_

Dean’s heart hammers erratically in his chest. His throat burns. He’ll _never_ be safe.

If he’s the one screaming, it’ll never stop.


	32. Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Sexual Themes and Light BDSM

* * *

 

**-Part XXXII: Heat-**

 

* * *

 

 

Dean feels the heat rising on his skin, anxious energy bouncing around as the chains coolly brush at his ankles and wrists. There’s no illusion of restraint. He’s absolutely not escaping this unless Cas wants him to. He squeezes his eyes shut, tears forming at their crinkled edges. He’d asked for this. Needed this.

“Hey.” A firm, loving hand rests on his shoulder, squeezing before thumbing up Dean’s neck, “You’re being so good for me, Dean. Thank you for trusting me. You are safe, and you are loved.”

Castiel falls to his knees, the Dominant taking Dean’s chin in his hand, “I need you to tell me your colour, beloved, so I can make sure I’m taking care of you.”

The heat falls, Cas’ touch grounding him to reality: safety, love, home. The struggle stops, and when Dean opens his eyes, he has no trouble with his answer: “Green.”

Dean’s never had a safe space in this world.

Cas is and will always be the exception.


	33. Hands

* * *

 

**-Part XXXIII: Hands-**

 

* * *

 

 

There are more to Castiel’s hands than the way Dean’s fit so seamlessly together with them- like an interlocking puzzle that once completed gives off the sense that you’ve done something right. The gentle squeeze and delicate trace of his thumb against Dean’s is a reminder that every painstaking moment behind him has been worth it- to be here, standing with him, hand in hand.

There’s more than completion. There’s fullness. A gentleness encompasses him with every subtle shift, every adoration that Castiel deems to give.There’s safety, protectiveness in their strength: one that could create or destroy, and instead they choose to simply hold.


	34. Read

* * *

 

**-Part XXXIV: Read-**

 

* * *

 

 

Since Castiel’s crash course into the world of popular culture, Dean’s been trying to teach him the greats- classic Western movies, high-stake action thrillers, the likes. Castiel sits through them all gracefully, learning about Dean through his favourite movies and characters.

In silence, though, Castiel’s found that he rather likes to read. Not all books are dusty grimoires with dull accounts of hunters day-to-day encounters with the supernatural. There are books full of hope- love stories and tales of triumph that have inspired humanity for hundreds of years. They inspire him, too.

He wants to read them all.

And he wants to believe in happily ever after. 

With Dean.

He wants to believe in happily ever after with Dean.


	35. Lock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings for This Chapter: Major Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Hopelessness
> 
> The inner workings of Dean Winchester's brain at its darkest. Probably after losing Cas.  
> In poem form.  
> Sorry. It's just kind of what happened.

* * *

 

**-Part XXXV: Lock-**

 

* * *

 

 

Lock away my heart,

Let its ashes waste and decimate in the flame,

Forever has no place here,

In a burning building,

With screaming children who grew up too quickly,

Ashen cheeks and somber expressions,

Lock up forsaken hopes and dreams,

Timeless as a memory,

Haunting refrains,

Of a love passed and dead,

Ghosts in the halls,

Where once resided a promise of a future,

Lock up every part of me that believed,

That anything good could come from something,

So decimated. 

So broken. So shattered.

Throw away the key,

Enclose me in the night,

As it all collapses,

To a blissful end,

A blackening darkness.

And then.

Nothing.


	36. Spice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning for Illicit Drug Use (Endverse) and Sexual Themes

* * *

  

**-Part XXXVI: Spice-**

 

* * *

 

 

Smoke fills the room. Cas’ eyes are lidded, and he’s smiling. It’s a sight that Dean’s never noticed himself missing, probably because Cas doesn’t do it enough.

He takes the joint. Spice, Cas had said.

Figures _what the hell, it’s the end of the world anyway._

The high rips through him. 

And then, he lets Castiel consume him.

His lips are heavy enough that they’ll leave bruises on Dean’s jawline, his collarbones. He wants it. Wants to be claimed, marked.

If it’s the end of the world, what’s it matter?

He’s never wanted to make someone as jealous as he wants to make himself.

The other him, that is.


	37. Soft

* * *

  

**-Part XXXVII: Soft-**

 

* * *

 

 

 

Angry words tear at collapsing ruins of the walls that they’ve torn down. Rough, bruising touches, spaces that should be silent filled with rage. 

It’s been said that a broken man doesn’t know how to love.

This is not true.

Dean’s heart burns like the sun, and if ever there was anything worth building a wall to guard, it is that.

Dean feels love like a river, and he won’t let it be carried away in the rush of undeserving hands.

Castiel cradles Dean’s sleeping form after his storms, placing a hand against Dean’s chest and whispering softly, “I will keep you safe.”

And he will. Deserving or not.


	38. Crack

* * *

  

**-Part XXXVIII: Crack-**

 

* * *

 

 

_A crack in your chassis,_ Naomi had said.

Castiel’s love for humanity, his ability to see beauty. 

The things worth living for- a fault, a fatal error.

_Broken_ : the way he looked at the hundred hues of the forest that made up Dean’s eyes. _Broken_ : the way his heart felt human in his chest when Dean got too close, only to pull away. 

_Flawed._

A crack in his chassis, was his love for Dean Winchester.

And yet. He pitied the others their perfect wholeness.

They could never understand the faultlessness of two broken beings, the way their jagged edges meet, then come together as one.


	39. Bandage

* * *

  

**-Part XXXIX: Bandage-**

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s been said that when it’s time for the bandage to come off, it’s best to do it in one quick motion. It’s better to feel a short burst of intense pain, than to let it drag on.

Dean’s found it doesn’t matter. Pain is pain. Doesn’t matter if the bandage comes off quickly, or tears at the skin- it still scars.

Castiel’s absence is a wound that refuses to scar over no matter how gently he disappears from Dean’s life. 

A cold bed is still a cold bed.

Gone is still gone.

And home leaves in a flutter of wings, and no promise to come back lessens the pain.


End file.
